


Stars in the Night Sky

by Costa_Cat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Broken Draco, Dark fic, Depression, Draco centric, Draco is alone, F/M, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Sad, Song fics, Suicidal Thoughts, Very hurt Draco, again rape, and sad, and violated, but they love and are loyal to Draco, maybe a suicide attempt, they still with voldy tho, third person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Costa_Cat/pseuds/Costa_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dark lord does not approve of Draco and Harry's blooming relationship and decides to put an end to it, and he uses a horrible, brutal way to do it. Draco is slipping deeper and deeper into the clutches of depression, getting worse and worse. Harry has to watch as the man he still loves become horribly thin, and deep dark bags appear under his and he can't do anything about it. Draco just keeps pushing everyone away, including his very best friend, Pansy. </p><p>~Changed the description sorry!~</p><p>I also changed the title, I know I know, I'm really organised. This is the same Broken Body Broken Mind, I though I told you I was fine (I'm not). Sorry for the confusion!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You- Keaton Henson

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so first chapter is rape so if that can be harmful to you then please skip to the bottom and I'll very vaguely explain what happened.
> 
> This is a song fic, each new chapter will be a different song. I'm not sure if I'll change POV, so for this first few chapters it will be in Draco's pov (third person). 
> 
> So please enjoy!
> 
> I'm a fucking idiot and I have no idea how things work and I am confused easily so here is the end note here:
> 
> Okay so if you skipped to the end then here you go: Draco get's pretty horribly raped, and is forced to break up with Harry. He is broken and very very sad.
> 
> So if you guys want alternative povs comment and tell me!
> 
> If you enjoyed this drop a comment!
> 
> See you next week (hopefully shhh)
> 
> I'll try to update every Wednesday/Tuesday but no promises.
> 
> Also this is unbeta'd so mistakes are mine.

 

_If I'm to die before I reach you. Please know I'm meant to love you till I did._

 

His mother ushers him into his room far too quickly for it be normal and slams the door behind her.

 

“Oh Draco you've really done it now” She sighs, pacing up and down the length of the room, muttering to herself.

 

“Mother I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It's not like I ever thought you would find out.” He explains, hating himself for feeling the urge to cry.

 

“Not only is it a boy Draco, which is bad enough in itself, but Harry Potter? Give us something to work with.” She exclaims.

 

“Believe me I know. You're not the only one ashamed of this.” He mutters bitterly.

 

She stops her pacing and turns to look at him, tears in her eyes and sympathy written all over her face.

 

“Draco, your father and I aren't ashamed at all. We don't care that you're gay, and although we wish it could have been _**anyone**_ but Potter, within time we would have accepted it. If you weren't a pure blood. And with the Dark Lord.... It's not going to work my boy. You know that you're going to have to stop this right?” She tells him, her tears so close to spilling.

 

He nods numbly. “Yes mother I know. But I don't regret it. I love him. I enjoyed something good while it lasted.”

 

_If I'm to slip beneath a train meant to take me, know that I believe it was worth it._

 

His mother nods in understanding before walking over to where he's sitting on the bed, taking him into her arms.

 

“You know you're going to get punished for this right?” She whispers brokenly into his hair, gently running her hand through it. He nods against her and her embrace tightens.

 

“Oh what we do for love.” She laughs without humour.

 

Suddenly the door bursts open, and his father rushes in. “Our Lord has been informed. Your sister is on her way. We better go, she can't know that we're okay with this.” He says to his wife.

 

“Wait, you were okay with it?” He asks, suspire clear on his face. His father looks at him with an expression worryingly close to fondness.

 

“Your mother and I were fine with it because it was clear that you were happy. We must go now. For what it's worth, I'm sorry this has to happen.” He says with full sincerity.

 

He struts over to Draco and squeezes his shoulder. “Come on dear let's go.”

His mother nods and kisses the top of his head with a whispered 'good luck' before leaving with her husband, the door closing swifty behind them.

 

_Tell my friends goodbye. Tell my now ex-boyfriend that I loved him and left him too soon._

 

He hates this waiting. He knows what's going to happen, and he knows that his Aunt Bella is ruthless and merciless. He knows that she's most likely going to _Crucio_ him. He knows all of this and he's just sick of waiting for it to happen.

 

He doesn't know if he can actually break up with Harry. He really does love him, and he knows that Harry loves him back. He did warn him that his parents might not like it, so he can easily lie to him, tell him that is parents demanded their relationship to end and then they could carry that on in secret. That's a fairly good plan. He really doesn't want this to end. He really does love him.

 

He stares at a photo of Harry he always keeps with him. It was winter, and there was snow lightly falling, and it made the brunet look so beautiful. His finger traces Harry's face and he realises how much he misses him. He'll understand about the need for secrecy. He told him what could happen. He kisses the picture, and folds it up, hiding it in his mattress. Aunt Bella didn't need to see it.

 

_Oh I hope to be holding you soon._

 

He can hear muffled sounds of conversation followed by an insane laugh and he knows that what ever sick and twisted fate is coming for him and it's going to be here any second. The sounds of footsteps thundering up stairs makes his body tense up, and he closes his eye.

 

_Who knows what happens if I leave my room,Oh I'm scared that you'll know what to do._

 

Once again the door to his room bursts open and this time he knows that it isn't love or understanding waiting for him. It's fear and pain.

 

“Oh you have been a very naughty boy Draco! I simply can't wait to punish you!” She cackles.

 

He can't stop the overwhelming fear that takes over his body, and it only gets worse when he sees her take out his wound.

 

“Stupefy!” She says delightfully.

 

_If I'm to die before you._

 

\------------/--------------

 

He dreams of the time he got full marks on his Potions exam. Harry had laughed at how stressed he was, and how he studied nearly 24/7, practically ignoring his presence, ignoring everything if he's honest. Harry had teased him about blue balling him, but Draco had just stuck his nose deeper into his Potions book.

 

But his almost constant studying had paid off, and he achieved full marks on his exam. He had been so freaking happy that he thoughtlessly waked up to Harry in the great hall and literally dragged him out, deaf to the protests of his friends. The other boy barely had a chance to speak before he was telling him about the good news, and Harry was practically swelling with pride. And instead of mind blowing sex, they actually just talked and cuddled for the rest of the day, Harry telling him how smart he was and how proud he was of Draco every other second and he had honestly never been happier.

 

_If I'm to die before I hold you, know my arms will be worse off for it_

 

It had been a really good day, and seeing Granger look that mad and surprised had been pretty good too. His Mother had hugged him for what seemed like hours and his Father had hugged him too, which was nearly the best part of the day. But no, the best part of the day was seeing Harry look at him with such pride and _love_ and Draco had honestly never felt better in his whole life. It felt like everything was perfect. But then the Christmas holidays came up, and he went home, completely oblivious to the horrors that would await him.

 

_If I'm set upon dragged from my room as I write_

 

He's dragged from his dream when a bucket of ice cold water is thrown over him. He gasps for air as his vision slowly comes back to him. He tries to move his arms but he instantly stops when a sharp pain goes through his wrists and he doesn't need to try and move his legs to know that he's tied up. His arms are behind his back and his legs are uncomfortably tied around what's obviously a chair.

 

His vision finally clears and his Aunt's smiling face comes into view.

 

“Glad you could join us Draco.” She says cheerfully, and her twisted smile grows when she sees his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

 

“Oh 'us' is me and my friend here Fenir Greyback. And don't worry my boy, he won't be turning you.” She says reassuringly.

 

But it's not reassuring at all. Because if he's not here to turn him, then he's here too...

 

His body freezes in fear and he can hear his heart beating frantically in his chest and he can't breathe any more and please no no no not this, anything but this. He'd rather die than this.

 

_You'll be my last thought before I quit. Give my family love, I would watch from above but I fear there is nothing but sleep._

 

Greyback stalks over to him, sinister expression on his face, and he leans down to whisper in his ear.

 

“So pretty. I like it when they're pretty.” The way he says it sends shudders down his spine, and he closes his eyes as his stomach churns.

 

“Oh what's the matter Draco? Thought I was going to let you off with the Cruciatus Curse do you?YOU WILLING DATED HARRY POTTER!” She screams at him, and it's clear she's losing her temper, and fast.

 

Tears well up in his eyes and he's fucking terrified because he thought he knew, he thought he knew what was going to happen, but he didn't and this is so much worse and shit he can't breathe.

 

“So since you love it up the ass so much, I figure that you wouldn't mind Fenir here having his turn? It's been oh so long for him.” She asks innocently, and his stomach turns again because yes, he does mind, he very much minds. Fear has taken over his mind, and he still can't breathe god dammit.

 

Somewhere in the fog that has taken over his mind he realises he's probably having a panic attack. He's had one before but Harry had been there to help him. _Harry._ He thinks of the boy he loves. The smiles, the gentle touches, the looks shared across a room. Slowly but surely he gets his breathing under control and he can finally fucking breathe.

 

_Oh I hope to be seeing you soon. I don't know what's out there more fear I assume, oh I'm scared that you'll know what to do._

 

“I'm going to leave now, let you _**lover birds**_ have some alone time yeah?”She beams. No no no, please don't leave, just use the curse, starve him for days, kill him, please anything but this. He prays and prays and begs whoever up there is listening that please someone help him, someone save him.

 

But no help is coming, no one is out there coming to save him, and there is no god. Aunt Bella skips out the room and the door slams shut.

 

Greyback comes into his line of sight, and he grins at Draco. He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to calm the stormy sea inside of him. Fear and terror are taking over his whole body and his mind and the realisation that yes, this is going to happen finally sinks in and shit please no don't do this.

 

“Let's get this show started then shall we?” He says, and Draco nearly throws up at the pure pleasure he can hear in his voice.

 

_If I'm to die before you_

 

Rough lips are suddenly against his and if his mouth wasn't currently occupied he would have screamed. A slimy tongue forces it's way into his mouth, and he feels so dirty and gross, and for god knows why he feels guilty, and he feels so wrong because someone else is kissing him and he's still technically with Harry, and he really does love him and he feels like a filthy horrible cheater.

 

With a wave of his wand the ropes are gone, and Greyback finally stops kissing him and he has to swallow the bile in his throat. Long jagged nails are pressing into his skin as he in manhandled onto the bed on his stomach, and he has to choke back a sob. His t-shirt gets ripped off of him almost painfully and the foul creature behind him licks up the length of his back and this time he can't suppress the shudder that wrecks his entire body. He feels dirty and gross and god dammit does he wish that he had taken up Harry's offer to stay at the Burrow for the Christmas holidays.

 

He'd declined because although Granger and Weasley are starting to warm up to him they aren't quite there yet, and even though Harry had said that it's okay he still didn't feel like intruding. But fuck does he regret saying no now, because he could be snuggling up with Harry right now and this wouldn't be happening. If only he had said yes, because although the last time he saw him is a good memory, it might be the _very_ last time he sees him since there is a very real chance that he can die right now.

 

_And if I'm to die before we spend a soft day know my final thought will be of regret._

 

His trousers are pulled down roughly and a whole new wave of fear crashes into him. Greyback licks up his thighs and his stomach churns and tears sting his eyes. “You taste so good.” He whispers into his ear, and once again he has to swallow bile.

 

He's flipped onto his back and Greyback takes his jeans off completely and he's left in his boxers, and now he has to look into those sociopathic eyes as they gleam with pleasure. The werewolf's lips latch onto one of his nipples and he cries out because he bit it, and he bit it _hard_. Greyback grips him roughly through his boxers and Draco has never been so flaccid in his life. Unfortunately it doesn't throw him off.

 

“Oh what's the matter? Not enjoying it?” He laughs like a man who's lost his mind, and he's Draco's not sure if he's going to come out of this alive. He's not sure he _**wants**_ to come out of this alive.

 

_If I'm to drown in the deep sea that parts us, I once lived and loved don't forget._

 

He's flipped onto his back again and he knows that this it, and fuck is he terrified. His boxers and pulled down and he can hear the sound of a zipper and dread fills him once he realises that he's not even going to prepared.

 

“Please.” He begs, voice broken. “Just prep me please.”

 

He squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears, and he feels filthy and horrible for begging but the chance of him being seriously injured without prep is very real. Greyback just laughs at him, and it fills the room and he just knows that it's going to haunt him for a very long time.

 

“Oh, but I like it best dry.” He tells him, and then he tongues his ass hole and the tears in his eyes spill over and he burrows his head into the pillow and tries to block out everything that's happening but he can't do it, it's all to real and fuck this is really happening.

 

“There you go _sweetie_ , there's your prep.” He murmurs.

 

He pushes into him roughly, a scream tears from his throat and he goes all the way in almost immediately and it feels like he's going to be split in half and there's blood, he knows that there's blood and he wants it all to stop, and this is way, way worse than the Cruciatus Curse, and he's never been in more pain in his life, and please just make it stop he wants it stop, please he just wants everything to stop. He feels filthy and disgusting and horrible. He feels worthless.

 

_Give my paintings to Alice, tell all my good friends that I didn't dare earn their respect._

 

He sets a fast brutal pace, pounding into him and Draco can barely comprehend what is happening and he's is so much pain. At this point he's practically sobbing into the pillow, making sure his sounds are muffled because he doesn't want to give Greyback the sick satisfaction that he's breaking him. Also he knows that Aunt Bella didn't put any silence charms up and the werewolf didn't either and he his parents did _not_ need to hear this. It would only add to the heart break and humiliation.

 

Greyback takes his arms and pins them above Draco's head, holding them in an incredibly tight grip that he knows that it's going to bruise. His hips are most likely already bruised, he doesn't even want to begin to think about what his thighs are going to look like, but he can't ignore the steady stream (and the horrible stench) of blood that is trailing down them.

 

If possible he goes even faster, rougher and harder and Draco is hoping, praying, begging that it means he is close to completion. He just wants to wake up from this nightmare but he can't because this is not a dream. Not even in his worst nightmares would he imagine this happening, and this pain is excruciation and he wishes he is dead. Why can't he be dead? Harry is never going to forgive him for this, Draco's just a filthy, worthless cheater.

 

_Oh I hope to be seeing you soon_

 

Greyback lets out a long, loud moan and empties himself in Draco and he wants to sob, out of relief, pain or fear he doesn't know. His thighs are now sticky with come and blood and he biles rises in his throat. He swallows it down thinking that he doesn't know how much longer he can do this for. He pulls out and Draco winces in pain, and suddenly he's being manhandled again, and he would of said that Greyback's movements are almost gentle if he didn't know him, and if he didn't see the sadistic gleam in his eyes. He's just being manipulative. He's now being forced to sip up on the bed, his legs over the edge, and fucking hell it hurt.

 

“Oh and don't worry about Potter, I've taken the liberty of sending him a letter for you. It said 'Harry, I'm breaking up with you. I'm sorry, goodbye.' Aren't I smart?” He says cheerfully, picking up his clothes and putting them on.

 

Draco felt hollow inside, he would of thought that at least he as allowed to break up with Harry himself. He would have been more gentle, maybe even hinted that this wasn't his decision. Damn they're smart, they know him too well.

 

“Oh and as additional punishment, I've cursed you. Don't look like that. You deserve this. Now the curse is already in place.” He tells him gleefully. Draco doesn't have the energy to ask what it is, but Greyback must of seen it on his face, or maybe he just took pleasure in his pain.

 

“This curse renders magic unable to heal you. That's right, you're going to heal from any injures, including these, like a muggle would. Oh, and only the caster of the curse can break it. Which I won't.” He laughs as if this some big funny joke, and not the life of a teenager he's talking about.

 

He struts out the room, leaving Draco broken and alone with his thoughts. He stands up and winces in pain again, tears stinging at his eyes. Slowly and barely even surely he puts his boxers on, does a quick cleaning spell, which is only good for the dried come because he's still bleeding. Bile rises in his throat and he staggers to the corner of his room, not wanting to go outside. He pukes until his stomach his nothing left, and then he wretches some more.

 

_I don't know what happens if I leave my room, oh I'm scared that she'll know what to do._

 

Too exhausted to stand up and walk, he crawls instead, dragging himself to another corner of the room. He curls up into a ball, and closes his eyes. He has no intention of sleeping, he just wants to shut out the outside world. Sooner rather than later his thoughts drift to Harry. He knows that by now he's probably got the letter. Is he crying? Is he cursing Draco? Maybe Granger and Weasley know, and they're planning some sort of revenge.

 

Nothing can be worse than this, so it doesn't bother him. Maybe Harry knows that Draco didn't send it, maybe he's thinks that this is his parents doing, and that Draco will explain it to him when they get from the holidays. He won't though. He would of if he had gotten the Cruciatus Curse, but he got much worse than that, and Draco's knows that he won't survive this again. He doesn't even know if he's going to survive _this._ So now Harry is going to hate him, he's going to genuinely begin to hate him, he's going to see that Granger and Weasley were right, he's going to realise that Draco really was a waste of time and nothing but a bad choice. He's going to move on with his life, and Draco's going to be stuck loving him.

 

_If I'm to die before you. If I'm to die before you..._

 


	2. Unsteady -X Ambassadors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sure you've noticed that the lyrics aren't 100% accurate the reason for that is that I want it to be more accurate to the story. Don't worry, it is not massive changes, just a few words changed or added. Updating schedule is every Tuesday/Wednesday, but that isn't a promise as I'm writing as I go. Have fun my darlings!

 

_Hold, Hold on, Hold onto me. 'Cause I'm a little unsteady. A little unsteady._

 

He's still in the corner of his room, shaking and curled into a ball when his parents enter come in. He doesn't look up, he just hears the door but he's too exhausted to lift his dead. His Mother almost immediately bursts into tears when she sees him. She practically runs to him, sitting down next to him, taking Draco into her arms. He barely manages to suppress a cry of pain. His Father however, instantly starts angrily pacing, muttering something indistinguishable under his breath.

 

“Oh Draco.” His mother cries. “I'm sorry. We didn't know, we didn't know.” She mutters the words over and over again, rocking him back and forth, stroking his hair.

 

“I promise to you that had we of known that it was going to happen we would have stopped them. Dark Lord be dammed.” She says through her tears.

 

“Really, Father? Do you agree?” He asks, voice shaky, looking at him from his Mother's embrace.

 

His Father stops his pacing and turns to look at him, and Draco nearly chokes when he sees that there is fucking tears in _Lucius Malfoy's_ eyes.

 

“Of course.” He growls. “I would never have let them do that to my son.”

 

Mother's embrace tightens around him and she whispers 'I love you, we love you' in his ear over and over again and for the first time since this nightmare began, he lets the tears that keep filling his eyes spill over. He cries into his mothers loving arms, shaking uncontrollably.

 

_Hold, hold on, hold on to me. 'Cause I'm a little unsteady. A little unsteady._

 

He tries to hide his crying from his parents, muffling his sounds and willing himself to just freaking stop already, because Malfoy's don't cry, it shows weakness, and Malfoy's weren't weak. His Father turns around and rage burns in his eyes and for a brief, terrifying second he thinks it's directed toward him, and then he basically storms over to him.

 

Surprising himself and his son he kneels down in front of Draco he whispers. “This is not your fault son. I swear, in what ever way I can I'll have revenge. This was never meant to happen.” He says fiercely.

 

Draco can't help it, he really tries to refrain from it, but he can't and he cries harder. Closing his eyes against his Father's weirdly concerned expression, he tries his absolutely hardest to just shut up and to just stop crying, for pete's sake. But he fails, again, and he sobs in his Mother's embrace, desperately trying to block out unwanted memories, but he knows that he's fighting a losing battle.

 

This night has been burned into his mind.

 

He looks up at his Mother's crying face as she strokes his hair and rocks him back and forth. He looks at his Father's angry expression, his eyes still filled with tears and although he looks as if he's hell bent on revenge, Draco can see through him, he can see that his Father is really feeling defeated, feels as if he's failed to protect his only son.

 

With a pang of dread he realises that he is alone in this. Although his parents know, he doesn't want to burden them with this. His Father will be planning his revenge, his Mother, well his Mother is terrified. Her husband is planning something that can get himself killed and her son has just been brutally raped. She's scared, and she doesn't want to show it. After tonight he's going to make sure he seems fine with his parents. They don't deserve the added stress of their son's mental health.

 

_Mama, come here. Approach. Appear. Daddy, I'm alone, this house don't feel like home._

 

He loves Pansy. He loves her to bits, they've been best friends since they've been in diapers. But he can't tell her. He can't just come out and say 'I was raped during the holidays. Fun times!'. Even if he did have the courage to tell her, Pansy wouldn't be able to take it. If it didn't destroy her, it would enrage her. She'd see red, and she wouldn't be as level-headed and calm as his Father, she would try and get revenge and then get herself killed doing it. He couldn't let her die because of him. He wouldn't let her die. Period.

 

His Mother makes a move to get up, and without thinking he grabs on her arms, keeping her there.

 

“Please stay.” He says quietly, silently begging her to stay.

 

“Of course Draco.” She whispers back, holding him close.

 

_If you love me, don't let go. If you love me, don't let go._

 

“I'll get revenge son, I promise. If- if it means turning on the Dark Lord, then so be it.” His voice is filled with confidence.

 

Stupid tears fill his eyes again. His Father just offered to _betray_ fucking Voldemort for Draco, and all those times that he had doubted who is father was more loyal too has been thrown the window because it's Draco, he's more loyal to him, and he's going to chose him over the Dark Lord even if it's get him killed.

 

His father must of seen something in his eyes because he walks over to them and puts his hand on his shoulder and says.

 

“I'll always chose you and your Mother, Draco. I may have lost sight of that, but after this.. Raping a boy who isn't even 17 yet? It's horrendous.” He says, voice thick with emotion.

 

The tears in his eyes spill over and he hates himself for it. He buries his head in his mother's arm, desperately trying it hide the fact that he's weak enough to cry so many times. He distantly hear his Father walk over to them, and a second later he feels strong arms wrap around him and his Mother.

 

“It's okay to cry. It's okay.” He whispers soothingly, and cries a little harder.

 

_Hold. Hold on, Hold onto me. 'Cause I'm a little unsteady. A little unsteady._

 

The three of them sit there. Broken and lost. They don't know where they are going to go from here. Which path to take, hell they don't even know if there is a path to take. Draco has no idea what to do. He can't tell anyone. He just can't. He's lost Harry for good, and even if he could be in a secret relationship, Harry wouldn't want that. He's broken his heart, and Draco got his crushed in the process.

 

Harry was way to good for him. He told him so many times, and Harry didn't listen to him. He just waved it off, and told him that they loved each other and that was all that mattered. Now he knows that Draco is just scum. So no, he can't tell him he was raped. He probably wouldn't believe him anyway. He can't tell Granger and Weasley either, even a Hufflepuff can figure that out. No, he's alone in this. He burrows deeper into his parents him. Well maybe he's not completely alone. He has his parents. It's all he has.

 

_Hold, Hold on, Hold onto me. 'Cause I'm a little unsteady. A little unsteady._

 

At least he isn't the only one who feels alone. He'll be leaving for Hogwarts first thing tomorrow morning, and if he knew his Father, which he does (at least he thinks he does) then he'll also be leaving first thing in the morning, only he'll be heading for the Dark Lord. It's exactly what Draco would have done if it were him, permanently move in with Voldemort, get to the very top of his good graces, get his full trust, then stab him in the back by getting revenge on Fenir Greyback.

 

She'll be alone in this big, empty house. There is also a hell of a good chance that this will result in his death, which will also leave her alone, but in a much more permanent sense. No, not completely alone, if that happens he swears that he'll be with her. Draco will drop out of school, future be dammed (as if he actually has one). His mother deserves the best of the best but instead she got a broken son and a husband who supports evil. Granted his Father is beginning to see his that his choices are wrong. He had been blind to it, for reasons Draco doesn't know.

 

But he knows now, knows what is good and bad, right and wrong. Draco can tell that his Father is starting to realise what side he should be on, but it comes with a cost. He's nearing a mental break down, he's desperate, and above all else he is in too deep. Draco knows that all his Father wants to do his to run, to take his family and leave. But he's staying, and not out of fear for his wife and son, because he can easily hide from the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. He's staying out of love and loyalty, he's staying for Draco and Narcissa, because he knows that although he can survive, his family will struggle. His father won't let that happen, so he is staying, even though he desperately wants to leave, he has to stay and be brave.

 

_Mother, I know, that you're tired of being alone. Dad I know you're trying, to fight when you feel like flying_

 

They huddle together close, none of them wanting to leave this safe bubble because when they do, everything will change. Everything already _has_ changed, but they can all ignore that together, they can just be with each other, and ignore the outside world, because tomorrow is the start of a new life, and they don't want to face that, not just yet. How can one family go so wrong? How will they ever come back from this? What are they going to do now? Will Draco ever be okay? Can he jump back from this? They ignore the questions bouncing around in their skulls, and hold each other close.

 

_If you love me don't let go. If you love please don't let me go._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it, or if you want to leave any suggestions. Any song suggestions would be bloody great is well! Till next week my darlings.


	3. Wake me up- Gavin Midkail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my Darlings! 
> 
> Just so guys know I'm really unhappy with this chapter, and I picked the wrong song for it. I'm writing next weeks chapter and I'm already happier with it. Nevertheless I hope you enjoy it and know that next week's will (hopefully) be better.

_Feeling my way through the darkness, I'm guided by a beating heart._

 

He's been staring out the window since he got on the train, grateful that he can finally sit on his ass with minimal pain. He can feel this cloud hovering him, and he knows that sooner or later it's going to take over him. It's already steadily descending. A sinister laugh fills his ears. He shakes his head. It's gone, but still lurking in the background. He shakes his head again. Nothing happens.

 

He can feel Pansy's gaze on him, has been there since the start of the journey. She's already asked once, but he brushed her off almost immediately, and she's been worrying ever since. They're alone in their compartment. Apparently Pansy's parents had fallen out with their old friends parents, so she had been abandoned by everyone else. The fucking idiots thought that Draco would have went with them, but he loves Pansy, so he stuck with her, much to his Father's annoyance, but yet his Mother's approval.

 

“I like the pretty ones...” A voice says. Taunting him. He squeezes his eyes shut. Digs his nails into his palm. The voice stops.

 

He stares out the window, not really taking in what he's seeing, and he wonders what's going to happen in the future. For now, he's going to focus on his school marks, and try to ignore the impending darkness, the sickening memories and the gut wrenching nightmares. But he wonders what's going to happen, what does the future hold in store for Draco Malfoy? He knows, with every fibre of his being, he knows that's he isn't going to get over this, he knows that this is most likely going to be the end for him.

 

_I can't tell where the journey will end, but I know where to start._

 

With a shudder that earns him yet another concerned glance from Pansy, he remembers leaving the manor that morning. His Aunt Bella had ambushed him, and for a terrifying moment he thought that his punishment wasn't over, or that she had figured out his Father's plans. Luckily, it wasn't either. She had just come to ask him about his screaming the night before.

 

“ _I heard you screaming last night Draco. It wasn't a nightmare. Was it? Because you're too young to be seriously affected by what happened, you don't understand depression, or anything like that do you?” She says, her words and voice innocent, but her eyes are screaming danger._

 

“ _No I am perfectly fine Aunt Bella, better than fine, I'm happy. Last night I was got a fright from falling out of bed. It won't happen again.” He is lying through his teeth, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that she knows it too._

 

“ _I should hope not. You are not the victim here boy. Run along now.” She orders before prancing him off._

 

Draco scoffs at the memory. He was fucking raped for God's sake, and she was telling him that he couldn't be in pain because he is young? Fucking typical. Reading through the lines, it her telling him that he shouldn't tell anyone, and that they'll be trouble if he did. She's basically telling him that he doesn't matter, that his pain doesn't matter, that _he_ doesn't matter and hell maybe she's right.

 

“What's wrong....” The same voice says and then dissolves into a laughter than can only be described as evil.

 

_They tell me I'm too young to understand, that I'm stuck up in a dream._

 

Fuck this. If he screws up the people he cares will be hurt, and he can't let that happen. He's incredibly lucky that it had been him, and not Harry, his friends or god forbid Pansy. He has to keep his head down, do well on his exams and do well in his classes and please his parents. ~~Aunt Bella and the Dark Lord too.~~ He can't afford to do anything else. He doesn't care if he's going to miss out on the 'Hogwarts Experience'. He doesn't really have much of a future. He can feel himself falling into the clutches of depression and there's nothing he can do about it.

 

_Well life will pass me by if I don't open my eyes, well that's fine by me._

 

His head hurts, and his body hurts too. He's nearing a mental breakdown, he knows it's happening. He swears that **_he's_** here, watching him, waiting for another round. Before, he had been looking out at the other students, but they were so loud, and noisy, and it made his head hurt even more, so he turned his gaze out to window, which had caught Pansy's attention, who then got up and closed the compartment door, and Draco was once again reminded how good of a friend she is. Draco doesn't deserve her. She deserves the fucking world, both muggle and wizarding, yet she's stuck with this horrible, death eater, pathetic excuse of a person that is Draco Malfoy.

 

“It's been oh so long...” He presses his head hard against the window. He's going insane.

 

He's never hated himself more than he does now. One doesn't truly know hate until they hate themselves. And he does, he really fucking does. He hates how much of an ass hole he was (is), he hates his past actions, and he really fucking hates himself for ever thinking that he, Death Eater scum, deserved to be with Harry 'The boy who lived' Potter. Fucking hell what is wrong with him? He wants everything to just stop, even if it's just for a while.

 

_So wake me up when it's all over, when I'm wiser and I'm older._

 

He's stumbling in the fucking dark here. Each and every thought is conflicting with the last one. First he regrets ever going out with Harry, but next he's glad he did it. As if it's one last piece of happiness before the world crumbles beneath his very feet, leaving him dangling over the edge.   
  
At least one thing is consistent. There is a cloud over his head and a pit under his feet. He will either fall, or live for the cloud to take over him. He's trapped from all sides. He has no escape. He's worried, because he has seen the 'light at the end of the tunnel' disappear in front of his very eyes, and the ceiling has caved in. Either way he's in the dark, nowhere to go. Nothing. He wonders how long he has been blind for.

 

_All this time I was finding myself, I didn't know I was lost._

 

“So Draco-” Pansy starts, but he interrupts her, because fuck it she'll never stop asking. At least this excuse will explain his behaviour.

 

“Harry and I broke up. Over the holidays.” He says plainly. Pansy blinks.

 

“Oh” She frowns. He can practically see the questions 'why' written on her face, so he puts her out of her misery.

 

“My parents.” Is all he has to say.

 

He feels a twinge of guilt at throwing his parents under the bus like that. They said he could, but it doesn't make it feel any less wrong. Fuck there's so many things to do and remember. He has to owl his Mother at least 3 times a week, and floo call her once every other day, he has to try his best to act like he had before, he has to pretend to the other Slytherin's that his parents are still on the dark side, he has to (and fuck his he dreading that) deal with Harry- no _Potter._ He is Potter now. So he has to deal with him and his friends, and above all else he was fucking raped. So many freaking things he's going to crack- no, he's going to shatter.

 

_I tried to hold the weight of the world, but I only have two hands._

 

Maybe he should just bugger off. Run away, for once, just run away from everything. He wouldn't have to deal with nightmares and memories under a watchful eye if he left. He wouldn't have to deal with Potter and his miserable gang if he could just get away from here. Maybe he'd go around the world, see things he has never seen, and count the days until everything is over. But then again, what good would that be? There's nothing for him to do, he has no goals. He's nobody, and travelling the world isn't going to change that and it is foolish to think so. Maybe he'll die before he gets a chance.

 

_Hope I get the chance to travel the world, but I have no plans._

 

He can see Hogwarts in all her grace and beauty in the distance, and he frowns at the lack of excitement or happiness. Instead dread and a little fear is there. It wasn't even that long ago that looking at Hogwarts would reassure him, because he would be looking at home. But now he knows that his time here will be mundane at best, and Draco knows that hoping for the best is nothing more than false hope and wishful thinking. In fact just a few days ago he was incredibly excited to back to school, to see Potter. He had been looking forward to it. But now all he wants to do his curl up somewhere and ignore the world forever. Oh how things can change in a mere blink of an eye.

 

He wishes that he could back to that time. A time where there is good in his life, where he could close his eyes without the fear of seeing his worst nightmare, or his Mother's poor attempts at hiding her fear. A time where he could happily collapse on his bed, and not be afraid of assured nightmares. Hell a time where even sitting down didn't hurt.

 

_I wish I could have stayed forever naive, not afraid to close my eyes._

 

Life is nothing short of cruel. If there is a god up there, then surely he enjoys to fuck over everything for the simple reason of entertaining himself. Life is just a game, a fight for survival. In a fight for survival, there is the good and bad. The good fight to survive by rallying everyone they have, every _thing_ they have. The bad fight to survive by killing others, to make it more likely of their own survival. But then there's the weak. Those who don't want to fight, who couldn't care less about the battle to survive. And in the end, the bad doesn't win, but the good don't come out triumphant either. Rather it is the weak. And in the end, it is the weak who are left to inherit the Earth. And in the fight to survive, Draco is losing, knowing that he is not bad, but not knowing if he is good, he is left to the unsurprising realisation that he is in fact weak.

 

_Life's a game made for everyone, and love is their prize._

 

His eyes slide closed as the train starts to slow. He can distantly here Pansy tidy the compartment, but as he feel literally feel her burning gaze on him, he decides to leave her to it. Everything is silent for a minute, but then he hears Potter's voice slowly approach where he's sat, and he can hear his friends, Weasley and Granger with him, and he doesn't know what is going to happen, but whatever happens won't be pretty.

 

He opens his eyes and turns just in time to see Potter stop and stand in the doorway, his friends flanking him like his own personally bodyguards, and Draco's heart breaks.

 

“Draco-” Potter starts, attempting to step in. Pansy is having none of that

 

“Don't you have any where else to be Potter.” She snaps, venom dripping from her voice.

 

“Move aside Parkinson. I just want to speak with him.” He says, almost pleading with her. Almost.

 

Pansy just crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head.

 

“Absolutely not. Leave Potter. _Now_.” She warns him, and Draco doesn't have to look to know that there is a dangerous glint in his eyes. This apparently annoyed Weasley, who steps forwards, expression scrunched up in irritation.

 

“Hold on now. You're treating him like a victim. He isn't, he was the one who broke up with Harry.” He says angrily, and Draco suppresses a shudder. It's scarily close to what his Aunt told him. Maybe they both are right, he brought this on himself.

 

“I'm treating him like my best friend. Piss off you lot.” She says firmly, emphasising her what she says by point towards the exit.

 

Potter shakes his head. “This was a bad idea.” He says somewhat sadly, and Draco feels a pang of regret. He walks away, and he doesn't miss the deathly glares he receives from Granger and Weasley.

 

He feels the ground beneath his feet crumble and fall, and he has never wanted to close his eyes and sleep for an eternity more. If only he could close his eyes, and wake up when he could actually have a chance at happiness.

 

_Wake me up when it's all over. When I'm wiser and I'm older._

 

Looking around to see if he's missed something, he numbly stands up and whispers his thanks to Pans, who just puts his hand on her shoulder and whispers 'Always' back. Together Pansy and him disembark from the train, both ignoring the laughs and sniggers from the other Slytherin's, the death glares from Granger and all of the Weasley's, and they both try their hardest to ignore Potter's concerned glance he throws them every other fucking minuet.

 

They both look up to Hogwarts, and although she is stunning and beautiful, they both feel unwanted and lost. And they both only have each other. Somehow he doubts they'll both be able to find their way through this maze alone.

 

_All this time I was finding myself, I didn't know I was lost._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment if you enjoyed! If you want to find me on tumblr my blog is: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dark-meadows
> 
> I hope you guys like this more than I do. Next week's will better, hopefully anyway.
> 
> Til next week my Darlings!


	4. Bleeding out- Imagine Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings! It's been a week so here's another chapter!
> 
> Shout out to who ever 'Random Person' is! I'm still working around adding it to the song list, but I am totally in love with that song. And yes, I am taking song suggestions. 
> 
> So here you go! I hope you enjoy.

 

_I'm bleeding out, and if it's the last thing that I do, I'll bring you down._

 

It happens in the worst possible place, but at the best possible time. It's like the world is fucking him over, but it's sending him a ' _Get well soon!'_ card. He's sitting in History of Magic and it's still being taught by that bloody ghost. Pansy and him had agreed to take it for an easy A. You really don't have to listen, the professor puts the subjects he'll be covering in the lesson on the board, and later he goes over it himself. Unfortunately, Hermione had taken it as well, and has somehow convinced her boyfriend to join her along with Potter, which has resulted in Draco getting death glares every time he's in the class, and Pansy all but growling under her breath.

 

It's his third day of Hogwarts and it's been pretty shit. He spends his time avoiding Potter, biting his tongue in order to not shout at Pansy's former friends, ignoring glares from all of the Gryffindor and the entire Weasley gang, and then at the end of the day tossing and turning in his bed because he can't sleep, and when he does it's for about an hour, before waking up from a brutal nightmares. Oh and how can he forget the showers? Draco showers as much as possible, he doesn't know why, he just can't stop feeling so dirty and used.

 

 

So he really shouldn't have been surprised it happened, giving his luck and that stupid curse that had been placed on him. Blood trickles down his thighs, and he makes a simply idiotic move to shift somewhat uncomfortably, and he has to bite his lip to keep from crying out because he feels something tear _down there_ , and he knows that he's in trouble now.

 

He stands up silently and quickly as to avoid bringing unwanted attention to himself. Pansy sends him a questioning glance, but he shakes his head. She answers with another concerned glance, but nevertheless she nods at him and turns her attention back to the boring old professor. She knows to leave this alone, that he'll explain later, and god does he love her for it.

 

Unfortunately though, Potter notices, and he can feel his burning gaze on his back as he walks out of the class, and is once again grateful that nearly everyone is asleep. Draco stops and listens once he's out, and he nearly sags in relief when he doesn't hear any footsteps following him. (He's also hurt but he ignores it, calling himself selfish.)

 

He thinks he's out of the woods when he hears it. That voice. That stupid, wonderful, dread inducing voice.

 

“Draco, are you alright.” Potter asks, and fuck he sounds concerned, God why can't he just leave well enough alone?

 

It kills him to do it, but he plasters his trademark sneer on his face. Nearly every part of his mind is screaming to tell ~~Harry~~ Potter what is going on, but there's the one small, rational part telling him that he'll be punished if he does. The voice just happens to be his dear Aunt Bella. Who would have thought?

 

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be _Potter_ ” He tries to spit out the name, he really does, but the both of them know the truth.

  
“Draco. Cut the crap please? Just tell me, at least, what the hell was with that letter? You can tell me you know, if it's your parents. I'll understand.”  
  
Potter says the words with such sincerity that Draco nearly, oh so nearly, told him everything. But the threat of what happened hangs over his head, and the knowledge that it could be Potter's fate as well stops him from saying anything.

 

_I'll bleed out for you. I bare my skin, and I'll count my sins._

 

“So big headed that he can't even take being dumped? Figures.” He says, and this time he manages to muster up at least a little venom. It's not much, but it works. Potter's eyes flash with hurt, and he turns and leaves without another word.

 

Draco can't focus on that though, because a wave of pain crashes into him, and he's suddenly aware that there is literally a small stream of blood working it's way down his thighs. He curses and rushes to the closest bathroom, and locks himself in the last stall. Draco rids himself of his robe in record time, but his fingers hesitate on his buttons. He almost doesn't want to see the damage, but a new wave of pain surges him into action.

 

With a wince he unbuttons his trousers and pulls them down with his boxers in tow. The rich scent of blood hits him and he's forced to close his eyes in order to stop himself from throwing up what little he had at lunch. He throws up in his mouth anyway, and swallows it on reflex, and he doesn't have time to be disgusted with himself because he is hit with an onslaught of memories that makes his chest tighten and his lungs unable to take in air.

 

_And I close my eyes, and I take it in, oh I'm bleeding out, bleeding out for you. For you._

 

Subconsciously, he knows he's breathing. He really does. Yes of course he's breathing because if he isn't then he's in a lot of trouble. The problem is that it doesn't _**feel**_ like it. Each breath in feels worthless, useless. It feels as if it isn't doing anything, so he breathes shorter, and quicker because fuck it doesn't feel like it. He's growing increasingly worried now, because why can't he breathe? It's bad very bad, because if he keeps going like this then he'll die, and he doesn't want anyone to find him dead with his pants around his ankles and bleeding out his fucking ass. Funny, the only problem he has with dying is the embarrassing situation he'd be found in. He grounds himself to that weird and quite frankly disturbing thought.

 

**Come on you stupid oaf, do you really want to die like that? No? Then breathe normally you fucking idiot. Take a big deep breath in and then another one and stop acting like a 5 year old girl having a temper tantrum.**

 

It works, it actually fucking works, and that's when Draco declares to himself that he's officially losing the plot. His breathing evens out, and he strains his ears to see if any one else is in. Thankfully, he doesn't hear anything apart from his beating heart and slightly laboured breaths. He knows he's tense, and he can tell that his walls are up and his expression carefully guarded, because it feels as if someone is going to come in any time now.

 

_When the day has come, that I've lost my way around._

 

A stinging feeling brings himself back to the present, and he looks down to what can only be described as a small pool of blood slowly filling his pants. He curses to himself, and whispers a quick cleaning charm. Before the clothes can get re-bloodied, he steps out of them, wincing as he does. (He doesn't have the energy or the awareness to be amazed that he did wandless magic without even thinking.)

 

He decides that cleaning himself up is probably the smartest way around this. He knows that he can't do anything to help the pain, anything to do with magic, and he doesn't have any muggle pain killers so that option is out. He can't go to Madam Pomfrey without telling her what happened, and that's just plain out of the question. He can't use magic to heal the wound either, and he has no idea how the ever living fuck he's supposed to heal this himself. So cleaning the wound does seem like the best way to go.

 

He accidentally does wandless magic to do it, and this time he has the awareness to understand that holy fuck he just did wandless magic. As amazing as that is, the spell is useless. It works for about two seconds before he realises that the wound is still bleeding, so cleaning it up is basically fucking useless.

 

He's lucky he has a back up plan. Which, to be fair, is completely fucking shit, but it's all he has. If the wound continues to bleed, and if it keeps reopening, he'll have no choice but to go to a muggle hospital. How in the hell he's going to get there he doesn't know. His only plan for that is to fucking wing it.

 

He casts a cleaning spell again, and rolls up a wad of toilet paper to put, y'know, down there. He slams his head against the wall behind him. Fuck this is humiliating. It feels as if his world is falling apart, as if everything is slowly descending into hell, but he knows it's just all in his head. It has to be right?  
  
 _When the seasons stop, and hide beneath the ground. And the sky turns grey._

 

God wasn't the rape enough? Why did he have to be cursed as well? This isn't a fair. Nothing is fucking fair. He feels like screaming. This is such a mess. How on earth is he supposed to concentrate on anything when all he can think about is that horrible night and Harry Bloody Potter, the boy he loves who will come to hate him.

 

It feels as if the world is falling apart around him, he can distantly hear screaming and crying and he wondering if he's going insane. Is he even really living right now? It feels like he's still trapped in that time, as if the nightmare never really ended. Another wave of pain crashes into him and with that came scorn and a simply horrible sense of hopelessness. What the fuck is he even doing with his life? Fuck sake it's only been a few days since it happened and he's falling apart at the seems.

 

_When everyone is screaming, I will reach inside, just to find my heart is beating._

 

He needs to get a hold of himself. This is pathetic. All he has to do is stop the bleeding and move on. This is dumb. He can fucking do this. He is not weak. He refuses to be weak. He's alright. Well aside from the not sleeping, the nightmares and the constant overwhelming, crushing fear that something is going to go wrong any minute.

 

He just has to hold on right? That's all. Everything is going to sort itself out. (Wow, he is really good at lying to himself). But if he just holds on, for Pansy, for his parents, maybe even for Potter, everything might work out. With this new found determination he takes a deep breath in, and with a start he realises that he had been the one screaming and crying. Oops.

 

He removes the wad of toilet paper and is relieved to see that, although there is still blood there, there's only a little, so he vanishes it away and gets another piece, this time using his magic to assure that the wad will stay there.

 

He slowly redresses himself, and heads out the bathroom. That's when he realises he's in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. At least it explains why no one came in. He seems to of struck a little bit of luck, because as he looks around he notices that she isn't here. Thank fuck for small miracles.

 

He's leaving when he hears a voice, and with dread pooling in his stomach he realises that she had been there, the entire time, and he feels his face heat up in embarrassment. In shame. She's says two words and repeats them twice, but yet it nearly breaks him. Because how in the ever living fuck does he do it. He's too far gone. Sometimes you can't help people. Maybe Draco is one of those people. “Hold on. Hold on.” She whispers to him, sympathy strong within her words, before disappearing.

 

_Oh you tell me to hold on, you tell me to hold on, but innocence is gone._

 

He heads out of the bathroom, and makes his way to his room, all the while thinking for Myrtle's words. Hold on, Hold on.

 

How is he supposed to do it? There's this weight crushing him, and he thinks it's impossible to hold on. But yet he is, going day to day, hoping and praying that when he closes his eyes at night he won't open them again. So far, no luck.

 

He's at the showers when he comes out of his thoughts. Actually, more specially, at the door to the only place in the Slytherin dorms that has a bath. He knocks at first, and no one answers. Of course they don't.

 

He goes in, casting a silencing charm before undressing. He numbly lifts his arm up, turning the temperature to scolding hot. He gets in, ignoring his burning skin.

 

He curls up. And he cries.

 

_And what was right, was wrong_

 

\--------------/----------------

 

The second time it happens, it's his second week at Hogwarts. It's the first Quidditch match since the Christmas Break. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, and everyone had been confused and somewhat disappointed (apart from Pansy and Potter, who's concern only grew) when Draco had suddenly given up his position of Seeker.

 

He excuses himself to go to the loo, and Pansy is so busy yelling and cheering that she just nods at him, telling him to hurry back. Draco nods back at her, before making his way down the stands, shuddering as he feels blood work it's way down his thighs, and he feels rage directed towards that stupid fuck for doing this to him. (Even though he probably deserves it.)

 

_I'm bleeding out, and if it's the last thing that I do is to bring you down, I'll bleed out for you._

 

He gets to the bathroom (coincidental it's Moaning Myrtle's again) in record time, this time knowing exactly what to do. He goes to the last stall again, and pull his trousers and boxers down in one. This time he's basically fully aware, without blinding panic coursing through his veins stopping all logical thought.

 

He tentatively tries a cleaning spell without a wand, and a small smile appears on his face when he succeeds. He gets the wad of toilet paper over the wound, wherever it is, in a matter of seconds, and it's not long until he's pulling his trousers up again.

 

He hesitates when his hand reaches for the lock, because this time he knows that Moaning Myrtle is here, probably listening and watching, and he feels as if he's stripped bare. That all his secrets are laid out for everyone to bare witness too. The thought makes him feel sick, and anxiety (or his heart) crawls up his throat, and all he can think about is that all of this is fucking Greyback's fault.

 

_So I bare my skin, and I count my sins, and I close my eyes and I take it in. I'm bleeding out, bleeding out for you. For you._

 

He steels his nerves and pushes open the stall door and nervously walks out, only to see that he's alone. Maybe she really isn't here this time.

 

But, just like last time, he doesn't hear her until he's almost through the door.

 

“Hold on, Hold on.”

 

\-----------------/------------------

 

The third time it happens, it's at 5am the next morning and he decides, that since it's Saturday, to fuck it and go to a Muggle hospital. He briefly considers calling his Mother to take him, but he quickly decides against it. His Mother doesn't need anything else on her plate, and besides, it couldn't be that hard to sneak out of Hogwarts.

 

In fact, it took him about half an hour to come up with a feasible plan, and then another hour to actually leave.

 

So here he is, around half 7 in the morning, outside a muggle hospital, he's fucking freezing and he has very little muggle money. Great.

 

The tall building towers over his head, looking especially daunting with a pitch black sky as a creepy but somewhat beautiful back drop. There isn't a cloud in sight, and he can see the stars in the sky, littered every where, and suddenly Draco feels very small.

 

The Earth is huge, the sky bigger and space even larger. And it's so beautiful too. Light against black, shinning and twinkling, calling to him, almost like they're staring at him. The universe never ceases to amaze him, to strike him with awe, and he finds a weird sort of comfort in it.

 

He smiles wryly. So what if Draco died? So what if a little speck of something ugly is lost in something beautifully mesmerising? In the whole grand scheme of things, he didn't matter. Not even a little bit.

 

_When the hour is nigh, and hopelessness is sinking in._

 

He looks back to the entrance of the hospital, steels himself, and walks through the doors. He's never been in a muggle hospital, and he has no idea what he's supposed to do, so when he notices a receptionist at what he thinks is the front desk, he approaches it, feeling totally lost.

 

She smiles when she sees him, and she speaks with a heavy cockney accent.

 

“How can I help you?” She asks, voice sweet and caring.

 

“I need to see a doctor, it's kind of an emergency.” He says sheepishly, blushing and shifting uncomfortably.

 

The receptionist notices all of this, and her expression softens considerably.

 

“Well I guess you're in luck.” She says sweetly. “Dr Daiz is free right now, just wait here and I'll go get her. Oh, and I'd advise against sitting down.” She says gently, before running off and leaving a blushing Draco.

 

20 minutes later and the examination is nearly done. It had been incredibly awkward, with some very personal questions, but he got through it. Now she's just rattling through the dos and don'ts. It's actually mainly just don'ts.

 

Don't exercise too much and/or too hard. Don't sit for long periods of time (and she said to take a few days of school, which he can't exactly do). Don't do anything stupid. Don't aggravate it. Don't poke or prod at it.

 

“There's not really much else we can do Mr Malfoy. We are going to give you some antibiotics to prevent an infection. Take it three times a day with a glass of water for the next two weeks. After you've ran out, come back and we'll have another check up. It shouldn't bleed again.” Doctor Rosa Diaz tells hi.

 

All he can do is nod numbly in response.

 

_And the wolves all cry, and fill the night with hollering._

 

She glances down at his writs, and then meets his eyes, her bright blue eyes filled with sympathy.

 

“There's nothing we can do about this bruises. They're pretty nasty, so they will most likely remain for a couple of weeks. Maybe even a month.” She informs him gently.

 

Bruises? He has bruises? He looks down, inspecting both of his writs. His stomach starts.

 

On his writs, and a little bit of his forearm is an array of colours. Red, blue, yellow, green and a little bit of purple paint his writs, coming together to form an ugly, grotesque picture. If he looks closely he can almost see an outline of fingers.

 

He wonders what he might look like. His hair is ruffled up, and there is dark bags under his blood shot eyes. He jumps a little at the slightest of sounds and actually flinched several times when Dr Daiz went to touch him. No wonder it's obvious what has happened.

 

Draco tries to summon a feeling, anything about this newly found information, but he can't find anything. He feels nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 

_When your eyes are red, and emptiness is all you know._

 

She gives him the antibiotics and sends him away, with another warning on what to do, and another reminder of their appointment.

 

It's nearly 8 in the morning when he gets out, and the sun is just coming out, painting a truly astonishing picture across the sky. Beautiful reds, blues, yellows and even some purples. Much better than the pictures on his writs. He's always been so interested in sun sets and sun rises, and today is no exception. He stares as the sun rises slowly, beginning it's journey for the day, and Draco absently wonders what his journey today is going to be.

 

He smiles tiredly. Insignificant indeed.

 

_With the darkness fed, I will be your scarecrow._

 

As he's walking aimlessly down the street, what appears to be a homeless person gets his attention. Hopeful green eyes meet confused grey ones, and the homeless lassie shakes her cup, and it becomes clear what she wants.

 

He didn't spend any money in the hospital, and he won't need it any more, so he takes the £45 he has and gives it to her, and apparently it's a lot because her eyes widen and she's saying thank you repeatedly.

 

“Why are you homeless?” He asks, sheer curiosity taking over him. She pauses for a moment, obviously trying to figure out his intentions. Eventually she just shrugs.

 

“I spent all of my money on alcohol.” She answers. Her accent is Scottish, and it's almost as hard to understand as Seamus's Irish one.

 

He plonks himself down next to her, ignoring her raised eyebrows.

  
“Why?” He frowns at her. He knows that Alcohol is the muggle version of Fire Whiskey. But he can't see why someone would throw away their life like that.

 

The girl sighs before answering. “It took the pain away. Made me forget all those bad memories.” She says sadly.

 

This time it's Draco's eyebrows that are raising. Takes away the pain? The bad memories? Draco could use some of that.

 

“Draco.” He says, holding out his had. She shakes it with caution.

 

“Well Draco. You got any bad memoires you wanna forget?” She asks him, and them wordlessly hands over a bottle of what must be alcohol to Draco after he nods his head.

 

“Names Olivia. And what ever fucked up thing happened to you, do me a favour. Hold on. Don't turn out like me. Well at least don't spend all your money on it.” She informs him, regret clear in her voice.

 

He takes a swig of the drink, and coughs as it burns his throat. It's a horrible taste. He should stop. But everyone keeps on telling him to hold on. Well fuck that. He takes another swig. And he can't help but feel as if he's headed down a dangerous path. He also can't help that he doesn't care. Damn it all to hell.

 

_You tell me to hold on, you tell me to hold on. But innocence is gone, and what was right is wrong._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So did anyone get my Teen Wolf reference? And did you guys get m Brooklyn nine nine one as well! If you haven't seen these shows, you so totally should!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed, drop a comment if you did! 
> 
> Until next week my Darlings.


	5. I'm a mess- Ed Sheeran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings! Terribly sorry for not updating yesterday. I was super busy and technically right now I have like a thousand things to do. Studying for me Biology and Computing NABs at the moment but I was like eh fuck it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_Oh I'm a mess right now, inside out_

 

He goes back again on Sunday night, and he learns a little bit more about Olivia. Her last name is James, and Draco realises that she's a very closed off person. He supposes he is too. He told her about his last name, and he found himself relishing in the fact that she didn't react at all to it. All she did was take a swig of her drink and say 'Huh, weird.'

 

He went up to her, gave her money, and they got drunk together, and Draco found that she's right, everything really does go fuzzy. It's not like he forgets what happened, he doesn't think he could ever forget about that. It's just, it seemed as if the rape had happened to someone else, not him, and Draco finds himself missing that feeling.

 

On the bright side of things, it seems as if Doctor Daiz had been right, and he hasn't bled again yet. On the slightly less brighter side of things, he has a killer hang over, and he has absolutely zero access to Hangover Potion. Though if he did, Draco didn't know if he'd use it, because Olivia had said that the pain in her head helped her forget those memories. Draco finds that she isn't wrong. Though Arithmancy class is a right fucking bitch. He suppresses a groan and lays his head against his text book. When did his life become such a mess? He can't help but wonder where he's headed. Where is Mother is headed, and he knows that between all of them, his Father has the longest road ahead, what with planning his revenge on Greyback. God he knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he didn't think it was going to be so hard. He idly wonders if this it it for him. Is it all over?

 

_I'm searching for a sweet surrender, and this might be the end._

 

He has to bite his tongue to stop from chewing Granger out when he feels her glare on the back of his head again, for the fifth fucking time. At this point he honestly can't tell if it's her, or his hangover that's making the class so bloody impossible.

 

“Mr Malfoy have you finished the work?” Professor Vector asks, striding up to his desk and peering over his shoulder.

 

Luckily though, he did, but his relief is short lived because he can feel her breath on his neck, and for a moment, for one horrible, gut churning, terrifying moment, he's back in his room with Greyback behind him, where each thrust is more pain, where each grunt is another sound that he is never going to forget. Back to a place where he can't breath, and his sight leaves him and all he can hear is the _**slap slap slap**_ and he can't breathe, he can't breath and he- and then it's over.

 

Gone as quick as it came.

 

“Ah yes, splendid work, as usual Mr Malfoy.” She says brightly, but her pleased expression morphs into concerned when she sees his face.

 

“Are you alright, you're looking a bit pale. Perhaps you should see Madame Pomfrey. Well, you know the rules here. You may leave, you've done excellent work. Do go and see her?” She says, worry lacing her words.

 

“Uh yeah sure.” He says flatly, but Professor Vector seems mollified, so he packs his stuff up and heads for the door.

 

Through the haze in his brain he can hear Granger tell their Professor that she's also finished, and he just as time to think, _Oh please don't talk to me_ before she's running to catch up with him.

 

“Malfoy!” She calls impatiently, but he keeps his pace steady and ignores her, hoping that she'll just let it fucking go.

 

But she taps his shoulder and now he can't ignore her.

 

“Yes Granger?” He snaps, also impatient.

 

“You're not fooling anyone you know.” She tells him, her chin held high and her spine straight, painting the picture of pure confidence.

 

His answer with a raised eyebrow.

 

“You may have Harry and Parkinson believing in your case, but don't believe for one second that you're fooling us too. You're still a snobbish brat. We knew that from the start.”

 

Draco finds himself trying to suppress a snort of laughter. He also finds himself pushing down the pang of hurt he feels at her statement. He finds it highly ironic that he's not fooling her, and that she can see that he's still a brat, but that's what he wants her to see, and therefore he _is_ fooling her. Oh the irony.

 

He also knows that he should say something mean and snarky in response, but he realises he just doesn't care. He's still reeling from whatever the hell that was, and he just wants to get back to his dorm. So all he does is shrug his shoulders.

 

“Okay Granger.” He says neutrally, before turning and walking swiftly away. As he's walking he goes through his mental list on what to next, and he's pleased to see that 'Fire Call Mum' is at the top. Another thing Olivia said that could help is to have a list and do it, keep yourself busy. But it doesn't stop him from thinking about Harr- Potter.

 

_I can't work this out, how going through the motions, going through us._

 

He doesn't really know why he's surprised about this. Even if the rape didn't happen, there would have been something else. There's always something else. Granger and Weasley aren't the only ones who knew this was a long time coming. He's actually surprised that it lasted as long as it did. He has no idea why he ever thought it could last. Perhaps it was how naïve he had been, or maybe it was Potter whispering sweet nothings in ear, making him believe that everything would be okay, that everything would work out.

 

But things don't work out just because you want them too, they don't always work out even if you desperately need them too. Just because your whole life is depending on it working out, doesn't mean it will. All of those words shared between them, late at night, when the owls were hooting and the starts were shinning, where the world had been sleeping, but their world was each other, those words shared with love and trust had been for naught. Because this universe, this huge, beautiful, breath-taking universe does not bend to Draco Malfoy's will, does not do something just because he needs that something to happen. Especially with how unimportant and insignificant he is. With how unimportant and insignificant _everyone_ is. So why, if Draco is just this tiny, ugly speck in this universe, did he think that Potter and him were going to work out for the simple fact that he wanted them too?

 

Because, he answers himself, fear may be a dangerous thing, but hope is far, far worse. Hope can change the course of a battle, change the course of history. Hope, Draco thinks, can do anything.

And he doesn't know what's scarier, hope, or the lack of it. Because walking through these hall ways, down these corridors, all Draco can think about is that horrible event that lead to all of this and he finds himself standing against the whole world without even a shred of hope. And that, is a very scary thing indeed.

 

_And oh I've known for the longest time, all of my hopes and all of own words._

 

He finds that he's in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, and with a start he realises that he spaced out for that whole journey. It's been happening a lot, but he can't tell if it's a bad thing. It probably is.

 

He looks around to make sure it's empty, and luckily (and obviously) it is, everyone else is at class, and he fire calls his Mother.

 

He only has to wait a moment before her head is coming through the fire, beautiful features twisting into a smile.

 

“Hello Mum” He greets warmly.

 

The Malfoy family is certainly a weird one. To the outside world, they're cold, stoic and indifferent towards each other, not wanting to seem vulnerable to the public by showing any unguarded care and affection. It's strange alright, but it works, and everyone thinks that his parents don't give two shits about him and visa versa.

 

But behind closed doors, it's different. It's Mum and Dad. It's long hours of playing hide and seek in a house that is far too big for three people. It's somehow managing to have a happy memory in each and every one of those rooms. It's Narcissa pestering Lucius to allow her to teach Draco to ride a muggle thing called a bike, because her sister had taught her daughter to ride one and she always went on about wanting to have the same experience. It's Lucius allowing them too and even joining in, and together they teach him how to ride a bike, and then later it's them running after Draco on his bike, all three of them laughing madly. It's his parents calling each other by nicknames they hate. It's Narcissa becoming Cissy and Lucius becoming Lucy. It's his Dad running away from his wife, because he ate her favourite ice cream again. It's love, and happiness. Behind closed doors, with the privacy of the three of them, they're a family. It's a home.

 

_Are all over, written on the signs, and you're on my road, walking me home, home, home, home, home_

 

“Draco dear, how are you?” She asks, not even bothering to hide her concern.

 

He pauses for a moment, pretending to think it over. He knows the answer. He's not alright, he's so far from okay he doesn't think he'll ever be there again, let alone happy.

 

“I'm..” He pretends to pause again. “I'm alright actually.” He lies smoothly, and something twists in his gut when he sees her demeanour brighten and her shoulders relax.

 

“Good.” She says, smiling. “I'm really glad Draco. So no nightmares or anything?” She asks, marginally less concerned than she had been.

 

“Surprisingly no. I really was psyching myself up for it, but no, no nightmares. Not that I'm complaining” He lies again, even adding in a fake laugh at the end that his Mum joins in on. But her laugh is real.

 

“That's great!” She says brightly, all trace of worry gone. Draco's stomach twists again.

 

“So how's dad then?” He asks. It's been bugging him since their last meeting, huddled together on his floor. He shakes the memory away.

 

“You know how he is, he's been busy planning this whole revenge thing. It's going to be dangerous Draco, really dangerous. But it'll be worth it.” She warns him, and by the slight incline of her head he can tell that she's fucking furious at Greyback's actions. She just doesn't show it. Draco's feels even more respect for her. She's a strong woman, and she can be down right terrifying at times.

 

“Give him my best will you?” He says sincerely. He winces when he hears the bell go over head. “I need to go now Mum, I'll owl you later!”

 

“Damn right you will. Bye Draco dear.” She says warmly, and the last thing he sees before she disconnects the call is the gleam in her eye and the smirk on her face.

 

He's lucky he has Potions next, the class is only down the hall. But he has it with Potter and his personal guard dogs. Not so lucky. In fact he finds that his luck can plummet a little more when he leaves the Slytherin Dorm, and can hear Potter's voice, talking and laughing with Granger and Weasley.

 

A mixture of hurt, regret and jealously slams into him. He can hear them laugh, carefree and happy, and it's the only thing he wants right now. He wants to be happy with Potter again, wants it like nothing else, wants, _needs_ , to be carefree and happy again, especially with Potter. His eyes burn bright with jealously, but they can't see that. They all think he's some uncaring asshole. He almost wishes he is.

 

_See the flames inside my eyes, they burn so bright I wanna fee your love_

 

He finds himself moving on his own accord, and he hides behind a statue, for some reason he's desperate to hear what they're saying.

 

“Sorry mate, I just don't see it. He was a prat then, and he's a prat now.” Weasley is saying, shrugging.

 

“I'm serious. I know him. Something's wrong. 'Mione from what you told me about your conversation with him, it doesn't sound like the new Draco, and it doesn't even sound like the old one either. You have to admit, he's acting strange.” Potter insists, and he feels a stupid pang of hope at the fact that Potter just called him by his first name. He pushes it away.

 

Granger looks torn. “He has a point Ron. He is acting weird. I think Harry's right, we need to figure out what's happened.” She says determinedly.

 

Ron just shrugs with a mumbled 'whatever' and Potter looks triumphant.

 

Suddenly he doesn't want to hear another word. No one can know what happened, _**no one**_ , especially not Potter, Granger and Weasley. He stands up, making it look like he's just stumbled out of the dorm. Of fucking course it catches their attention, and of fucking course Potter sends his little guard dogs away.

 

“Draco.” Is all he says, and he barely has any time to school his features into a somewhat bored expression, too exhausted to sneer.

 

**See me, please just fucking look at me. Look at me, really fucking look at me please, I'm not okay, I'm not okay, I'm going down a path that I can't come back from please just fucking look at me. God can't you see me? Please. I need you to figure it out fucking _please._**

 

He cuts himself off, and musters all the venom he can.

 

“What do you want Potter, I have better things to do you know.” He's lying through his teeth and he hates himself for it.

 

_Easy baby, maybe I'm a liar. But I just wanna feel your love. Don't put your faith in me._

 

Potter's confidence doesn't waver.

 

“Draco I know that something has happened. You can tell me you know. You can tell me anything.” He says. Gently. Kindly. Sincerely. All things that Draco doesn't deserve.

 

**No I fucking can't tell you. Can't you see? If I tell you everything goes to shit, but if you figure it out then it doesn't. Can't you see? Why can't you fucking see. Just open those brilliant green eyes and see!**

 

“Harry I can't. I-” Draco stops abruptly. He almost fucking told him. Did he seriously almost ruined fucking everything because of something so stupid? He can't even trust himself to speak anymore.

  
“I have to go.” He says quickly, brushing past him, ignoring his cries of 'Draco wait!'.

 

Fuck going to Potions, he thinks, he needs to forget that any of this fucking happened. And he knows just how to do it.

 

\---------------/--------------

 

Olivia wasn't where she normally is, so he decides to go to the nearest alcohol store and buy as many as could. He needs to get rid of this undying need to be loyal to Harry fucking Potter, or at least to just forget about it. He sits on the edge of a bride, dangling his legs off, and he considers jumping. One step and the world will fall away. He decides against it though. Not today anyway. He has another sip, and tries to pin point when this need for a drink started. Probably last night. He doesn't much care.

 

_I've messed up this time, late last night, drinking to suppress devotion, fingers intertwined._

 

He hates how he's feeling right now, he can't seem to get rid of it. He can't stop thinking about Potter. His thoughts seem to be jumping all over the place. One minute he wants to tell Potter everything, just wants people to stop thinking that he's a monster, ~~even though he probably is.~~ But the next, he's pushing everyone away. Wants nothing to do with Potter. No, he thinks, that's not true.

 

Deep down, he wants Potter. But he knows that he can't have it. Can't tell him, because it's putting his family, Potter, Pansy and himself in harms way. He can't have that. Then there's the fucking shame over being raped. How can he tell anyone that he let himself be used, treated like nothing more than the dirt underneath Greyback's boot? That he can barely look himself in the mirror without throwing up, that he hates how he looks? How he spends hours glaring at those stupid bruises on his wrists, and the bruises hidden beneath his t-shirt, marking his hips with ugly colours? He just wants everything to stop. Why can't everything just fucking stop?

 

_I can't shake this feeling, I'm going through the motions, hoping things will stop._

 

Even if he could get Potter back, even if he could tell him everything, and just be fucking happy. He doesn't deserve that. All he's ever been to him was an annoying problem. Even if Potter loves him, he was the one who started most of the fights between them. He had caused a rift between Potter and his friends, even though Mrs Weasley never said anything, Potter always said that he could tell she was disappointed in him. He had causes a rift between Potter and his first ever real family.

 

It would be really selfish of Draco to ever try and start something back up with Potter. He should let him move on. Who cares if Draco isn't happy? As long as Potter is happy, even better if he he could move on with someone good for him. Someone who he deserves someone who won't cause him any problems. So, with all this logic on his side, why does he want to be with Potter more than anything?

 

_And oh I've only caused you pain, I know but all of my words will always below, of all the love spoke._

 

He has two places he once called home, and now both of them are ruined.

 

The manor, where he grew up with two parents who love him more than anything, even if they don't seem like they do, is now ruined. Happy memories tainted with his Aunt Bella dancing all over the place, boasting about all the people she's killed, all the _children_ she's killed. Tainted with the rape. He doesn't think he can ever step into his room again.

 

Hogwarts. A place that he used to escape his Aunt's insane ramblings. Away from all the bad. A place that had Potter. A place where he could be unconditionally happy. Now ruined, with death glares being sent his way, with the whole school, and even some of the teachers, hating him for breaking their precious savours heart. Ruined, because he has to see Potter, looking sad and heart broken, and all he can think about is the fact that he's done that. He's done this. It's his fault. Everything is.

 

_When you're on my road, walking me to a home I wish I had._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand there we go! I don't know if you guys got my very obscure reference to PLL, but it's there.  
> Things will be picking up in the next few chapters so look out for that.
> 
> If you enjoyed it leave a comment! They honestly make my day! Till next week my darlings. I should be updating next Wednesday.


	6. Nothing left to say- Imagine Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, well, it's still Wednesday here, but it's close to 12. I was in a food fight and I had to work the tangles out my hair.
> 
> So, this one is quite something. I hope you enjoy my darlings

_Who knows how long I've been awake now. The shadows on my wall don't sleep._

 

He's been starting at the ceiling for over 6 hours now. It's 6am, Thursday, and surprise surprise he can't sleep. He doesn't even know if he wants too. It's funny, he thinks, he's dreading going to bed every night, knowing it's going to a be night of tossing and turning, bad memories, and nightmares. Not to mention the noise. His dorm mates aren't noisy, but his mind is. His brain, not even for a second, will switch off. Always going. So loud. He wishes it would stop. He wishes the noise would quieten.

 

He moves his line of sight over to the windows. They're so tempting, looming overhead, casting shadows on the floor. It's like they're calling to him, whispering in his ear, telling him to jump, that everything will be over if he jumps, and it's tempting, it's oh so tempting. All he has to do is go over, open the window, and jump. Then it will all be over. Everything will be okay. All he has to do is jump. They stare at him, call to him every night. He doesn't know how much more he can take.

 

_The shadows on my wall don't sleep, they keep calling me, beckoning._

 

He's brought out of his musings when the door to his dorm room opens, and a dark haired girl slips inside. It's Pansy. He sighs and closes his eyes, pretending to sleep. He's been completely avoiding her. He doesn't deserve her. His best friend deserves the moon and the stars and everything in between. So, he's avoiding her, distancing himself. If he does that, then maybe his death won't hit her so hard. If he can get her to hate him, then maybe his death won't affect her at all. That's the least he owes her.

 

“Draco I know you're awake. Talk to me please?” She asks gently, hopeful.

 

He ignores her, keeping his eyes closed. There's a soft sigh, then his bed dips, and her voice is a lot closer.

 

“I know you won't tell me what happened, and I know this isn't about Potter, at least, not any more. But please, don't push me away, don't shut me out.” She quietly begs, and Draco's heart breaks a little more.

 

“I'm fine.” He lies, sleep thick in his voice.

 

“I know you're not. Talk to me.” She pleads.

 

“I am. Don't worry.” He says flatly. Emotionless. Although he's been ignoring her, although this is how things have been for the past week or two, although this is normal for them now, he can't help but feel that this is the end. That she's going to stop trying now.

 

And when he hears her sigh, and the door close behind her, the feeling is only reinforced. He also can't help but ask himself if he did the right thing. Should he have pushed her away? Maybe he should have let her in. No, that's selfish of him. Isn't it? God everything is so fucked. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do any more.

 

_Who knows what's right? The line keeps getting thinner. My age has never made me wise._

 

How is he meant to go on when every single day the weight on his shoulder is getting heavier and heavier? Why is he still trying? Why is he even still here? Potter probably doesn't hate him, yet. But all of his mates do. Even if he doesn't hate Draco, he definitely doesn't love him any more. Who could, after all the shit he put Potter through? And he has friends, he has best friends. Draco trusts, a much as he loathes to admit, Granger and Weasley to be there for Potter when Draco dies.

 

He and Pansy are drifting away. ~~Even though it's because of him.~~ Her parents, much like his, love her too. They'll support her through it. Besides, the other Slytherin's might 'hate' her now, but they always come together when it matters. Draco's death might help them mend bridges that were once burned. This is for the best.

 

His parents, well, they have each other. They always have. As much as they love him, and Draco knows this, he really does, he also knows that if they stick together instead of pulling apart, then they can get through this. They both have been through much worse. They can handle anything. (Much like Draco thought he and Potter could, but he pushes that thought away). This is the best for everyone. He's just an annoying burden. So why is he still here? He doesn't know any more.

 

_But I keep pushing on and on and on and on (why do I)_

 

He's made his decision. He knows what he needs to do, what he _has_ to do. And honestly, he hasn't felt so light since the incident. He closes his eyes, content for once, knowing that soon everything will be over.

 

\---------------/----------------

 

He feels giddy, so giddy that he can't even eat his dinner, which to be fair, he normally doesn't. He doesn't know whether he should be worried over the fact that he's giddy about his up coming death, but he is. All he knows is that he can't do this any more. All this despair and pain. How he is often hit with the merciless fact that nothing matters, that everything is worthless, that _he_ is worthless. It's just so hard, it's too hard and fuck he doesn't want to deal with this he just doesn't. It's just that simple.

 

_There's nothing left to say now, there's nothing left to say._

 

He stands up from where he had been sitting, at the end of the table. Alone. He ignores Pansy's gaze, along with the glares from the Gryffindor table (seriously, why won't they give it a rest?) and Potter and those fucking glances of concern he seems to be so keen on showering Draco with. What is with that?

 

He doesn't know where he's going, too deep in thought to care, and he can't say he's surprised when he realises his feet has taken him to a bathroom. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He doesn't know what he's meant to do though. Ask Myrtle what dying was like? It seems a little too rude, even for Draco.

 

Out of nowhere a horrible thought flies into his mind. What if he becomes a ghost after he dies? Oh that is something he does _not_ want. Fuck that would be horrible. Surely there's some way to fight against it. Could he not tell them ' _No thanks, I don't want to be a ghost. I killed myself for a reason'_ He grimaces at the thought. Maybe that's a little to blunt.

 

He's brought of his musing by an uproar of laughter from some Hufflepuff's, and he stamps down the longing that hits him. He's completely caught of guard when he hears her speak. Two words. Repeated. Almost exactly like before. But this time her words are more gentle, soothing. Soft. Caring.

“Hold on, hold on.”

  
He shakes his head sadly, and for the first time he answers her back.

 

“Why?”

 

_I'm giving up, giving up, hey hey, giving up now. I'm giving up now._

 

He can't help but freeze when he hears his laugh. It sounds so care free and happy. If he closes his eyes he can imagine Potter laughing like that at something _he_ said. He snaps himself out of it before he can go down that road. He doesn't deserve to have something like that.

 

When he rounds the corner, he can feel his already shattered heart break, just a little more, at the sight that greets him.

 

Ginny Weasley is laughing, her head thrown back, one arm on Potter's, and the other around her stomach, as if she's laughing so hard it hurts. Potter is laughing too, hands wiping tears of joy from those brilliant green eyes. The whole image is screaming happiness, laughter and love.

 

He hates himself for being jealous. This is exactly what he wanted isn't it? What he _**wants**_. For Potter to move on, be happy with someone else, and Draco finds he can't find anyone more deserving of the boy who lived than Ginny 'takes no shit' Weasley. They really do look happy, so Draco should be glad for them. But of course, since nothing is predictable these days, he just feels empty. As if a huge hole has just opened inside of him, and he can't breath any more. Can't think right. Can't hear. Can't process anything. He's not sure he even wants to. It feels as if something inside him has broke, as if seeing the only person he's ever loved move on is the last straw. Now that Potter has the Weasley girl to comfort him, there's nothing left to keep him here. Nothing left keeping him alive.

 

_Below my soul I feel an engine, collapsing as it feels the pain._

 

It feels as if something is eating away at him, and he turns from the sight of what Draco suspects is pure bliss, and heads to his dorm. He wants this feeling away and he wants it gone now. Draco is immensely relieved that during his last venture out of the castle, he bought a supply of the muggle alcohol. It's currently 'hidden' in his trunk.

 

The weight on his shoulders (and in his mind), the one that has been slowly getting heavier and heavier finally collapses in on him, and he can't get to his stash quick enough. At last he's here, and a double check of his dorm confirms that there's no one else is in the room. He grasps the bottle and quickly downs some of it, frowning when he realises that he isn't feeling the relief he normally does. He shrugs, thinking that he'll need to get shit faced, and he takes another drink.

 

Night has fallen, and those beautiful starts are showing themselves again. He marvels at the fact that he will never get tired of staring at them. He'll be with them soon. He'd much rather be a star, be a part of something so big, breath-taking and never ending. Something, that no matter how many starts implode or how many black holes there are, or how planets expire, something that will always be there. Something that will never leave, looking down on them, knowing that all humans are is pawns on a chessboard, part of something much bigger than themselves. Something strong. Draco longs to be part of the stars.

 

He can feel that pleasant fog enclose around his mind, but to his utter dismay he realises that the overwhelming crushing feeling is still there, and he knows, he just knows that there's only one thing that can stop it. If only there is another way. If only things are easier. If only.

 

_If I could only shut it out, I've come to far to see the end, and even if my way is wrong, I don't wanna keep pushing on and on and on._

 

It's frightening really, how he knows that nothing can change his mind. He knows with absolute certainty, that no matter how many times Myrtle whispers 'hold on, hold on', no matter how many times Olivia tells him not to waste his life can stop him. He doesn't have a life to waste anyway.

 

Not even Potter's sweet nothings can save him. Not even his Mum's gentle hugs, or his Dad's inside jokes can stop him now Not even Pansy's undying loyalty can stop this from happening. His decision is made. He can't do this any more. 'Depression is like a war, either you win, or you die trying'. Who ever said that is bang on the money. He's quitting, he's losing, and he doesn't fucking care any more.

 

_There's nothing left to say now, nothing left to say. I'm giving up, giving up, hey hey, I'm giving up now._

 

He abandons his near empty bottle, and he half stumbles down the stairs, not drunk but not quite sober either. Pansy's lounging on the couch, laughing at something Theo has said. Good. He knew they would forgive her eventually. Now even Pansy doesn't need him. Not really. Everyone seems to be laughing lately, and Draco comes to the daunting realisation that, although his world has stopped, and although depression is eating away at him, the rest of the world is moving on. All of this is in his head. All the more reason to do this then.

 

He's walking to god knows where when he passes them again. The perfect picture of happiness, and he wonders, not for the first time, if maybe he's just to complicated to be loved. Maybe he's too horrible. Maybe he's too much or work, or maybe he's too much of a disappointment. Maybe it's all of the above. It's probably all of the above. He moves away from Potter and his friends.

 

**See that Draco?** _**Friends.** _ **Something that you don't have. Something that you don't have. You don't deserve them. You don't deserve them. The difference between you and them, is that when they wake up, their nightmares end. Draco, Draco, you know how to stop this, Draco Draco, you know to end this, Draco Draco you know how to wake up from this nightmare, Draco Draco, you know what will make it all okay. Draco Draco, jump, step off, jump, Draco Draco this is the end.**

 

He opens his eyes, the cool air hits him, his ears are roaring with the sound of wind, and the sight of Hogwarts at night greets his eyes. He's completely sober now.

 

He's on the roof.

 

_I'm gonna fall down, I keep falling down, I'm gonna fall, I'm gonna fall, I'm gonna fall down._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahaha don't kill me please. I feel a little bad that you have to wait a whole week for the next chap, who knows, I might post early.
> 
> Leave a comment/kudos if you guys enjoyed, and as always, I'll see you next week my darlings


	7. Bullet- Hollywood Undead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings. Has it been a week already? You guys must be super excited. 
> 
> So warning: dealing with some really dark themes. 
> 
> Also, please don't hate me. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I really loved writing this

_My legs are dangling off the ledge, the bottom of a bottle is my only friend._

 

Stars die because they have burned all of their fuel, when they run out of energy. When they've ran out of their main fuel source, they start to desperately burn anything they have, as if they know what is going to happen when the fuel runs out. And it does run out, of course it does. It always does. There's no way around it. When there's simply nothing left to keep them going, they'll rip themselves apart, in what could potentially be a massive supernova explosion. The sun, for example, when it runs out of hydrogen, the explosion could be big enough to swallow up Mercury and Venus. It would be devastating. But there's no avoiding it. It's going to happen. Plain and simple.

 

For about a week after the supernova explosion, it is the brightest star in its galaxy. It outshines all the others. If stars could gossip, and who knows they could be able to, then that's all they would talk about. But then, after a week of being the biggest news in the galaxy, it fades. It becomes nothing, nobody. All that's left is a tiny, dense object. A neutron star, or maybe a black hole.

 

Draco Malfoy is a star. But not an interesting one, not like the North star, or the sun. No, he's just a simple, boring star. And he's run out of energy. He's already desperately tried to hold on, using alcohol as a fuel source for him to keep going. But everything runs out or stops working.

 

He's sitting on the edge of the Hogwarts roof, his legs freely dangling off, his butt barely on the roof's ledge, and he is ready to rip himself apart. Of course they'll be no supernova explosion when his body hits the ground. But instead of an explosion that could swallow up planets, they're will be news. And in reality the 'explosion' will really be his parents, Pansy and Potter finding out about his death. It's not exactly going to swallow them up, like how the sun will swallow up Mercury, Venus and many more, but Draco thinks it will still be devastating.

 

And then, for a week after his death, he'll be the biggest news in the castle, and teenagers can certainly gossip. He knows that he'll be all everyone will talk about. He's not vain, self-absorbed or narcissistic. It's just a simple fact. If someone kills themselves, by jumping of a building they're in no less, people will talk about it. It's an absolute certainty. But then, the chat will fade and he will be forgotten within a week of his death. He'll no longer be interesting. He'll be old news. He will fade so much he'll be nothing. Nobody. Just Draco Malfoy, the boy that killed himself.

 

_I think I'll shuffle forward and then I'm gone, gone, gone, gone._

 

Draco thinks about this, staring up at the stars he longs to be apart of, and he remembers an old Black Family legend. There's an old Black tradition that they're to be named after stars, constellations ect. Nearly everyone knows this. But unknown to most, there's a legend, an old bedtime story, behind the tradition.

 

If a Black (by blood of course) is named after a star, constellation, ect ect, then when that person dies, they'll join the stars in the night sky. It is said that their soul will join the star, constellation ect, that they are named after. The legend goes that they will help look after and guard the galaxy they're in, and will help the planet closest to them. If there is no planet, then they have to make their own.

 

It is also said that if you are a Black (or related by blood) and you are not named by tradition, then when you die your soul will be cursed to wander aimlessly through space. Alone forever. It's silly, Draco knows this is silly, but he hopes it's at least some what true. He wouldn't mind spending life after death as a star next to a freaking dragon. He's ready, he thinks. Draco Malfoy is ready to die.

 

_A stomach full of pills didn't work again, I'll put a bullet in my head and I'm gone, gone, gone, gone._

 

He's tired, he's so fucking tired. Tired of pretending that everything is okay when it's just fucking not. It feels as if everything is crashing down around him but it's not. This is just in his head and he hates that because it feels as if it's affecting the whole world but it's not, it's fucking not. He had been blinded, and he can finally see that it's not the world that is crashing and burning, it's him. He's the one who has collapsed under all this weight, and he's not surprised because he couldn't fight forever.

 

He can't help but thing that the black hole that a star could become after it's supernova explosion is like depression. It takes over you. It swallows up everything good.

 

Once depression gets a hold of you, with it's dark, sad, scary hands, it will never let go. Depression is like a massive hole. Once you fall down, you're never getting out again. The closest you can get to happiness, is reaching the top of the hole. You can never escape depression. It will always be there. If you're at the top of the hole, then the threat of falling all the way back down is constantly looming over you. And when you're on the way to the top, you fall. You can climb, and you will fall. You're never at the top of the hole for long before you're falling down again. You will always fall back down, because depression won't let you be happy. And eventually you give up. Because who would climb just to fall again? It goes on and on and you fall and fall. And there's only one what to stop the never ending cycle of suffering.

 

_Gone too far yeah I'm gone again, it's gone on too long I'll tell you how it ends._

 

And sometimes, the walls of the massive chasm will cave in. You won't be able to see the top, let alone climb up. No amount of self harm or alcohol will ever help that. And that's when you know it's over. That's when you know that there's nothing left for you. That is when the fuel runs out. That is when you fall deeper and deeper. That's when it all ends.

 

The already cold breeze grows colder and stronger, and he doesn't even have the energy to shiver. His mind is some place else, some place where every breath in is like a thousand knives stabbing into him, and he can't breath, doesn't want to, and he shuffles a little closer to the edge. He takes a swig of the bottle he brought with him, even though he's most definitely sober now, even though it does nothing to ease the constant crushing feeling, it does warm him a little. Not for long though.

 

_I'm sitting on the edge with my very best friend, such a shame that it's only a bottle of a gin._

 

He's surprised but not surprised that no one has made a dramatic entrance yet, begging Draco not to do it. Of course it hasn't happened. This isn't a fairy tail. It's the real world, and there's no happy endings in real life. Nobody has been watching him when he thought that no one was looking. Nobody secretly knows what has happened and has been researching ways to help rape victims. No one has seen how fast he's been falling apart. Nobody fucking cares enough to do any of that, and nobody is coming to stop him. He doesn't want anyone to stop him. He can't do this any more. Nobody understands. They'll tell him to move on. He tried that, several times, and he had died a thousand times before he decided to die for real.

 

He takes a long drink, and nearly finishes it off. He can't help but feel disappointed at how it's not helping any more. He knew from the start that it was only a temporary solution. Not everything lasts for ever. Not even stars. Self harm, drugs, alcohol and many other coping mechanisms always help at first, maybe it quietens the noise inside your mind, or it distracts you from a different kind of pain. Either way it always helps at first. As time goes on it gets less and less reliable, until you're doing out of habit, until it stops working. Or at least you think it does, because when you're doing drugs, getting drunk or self harming the noise in you mind is loud whispers, so you stop, thinking it doesn't help, and when you do it's not loud whispering in your mind, it's screaming. So your unhealthy coping mechanism still helps, but not like before. And the only thing to get rid of the noise, pain ect ect is to end your misery full life. Draco looks down at the ground, and he's shocked by how appealing it looks. It doesn't look like his up coming death. It looks like peace. It looks like an escape. He takes another drink, and this time he does finish it.

 

_I polish off this bottle now it's pushing me off, asphalt to me has never looked so soft_

 

The word disappointment is a weird thing. It's not an ugly world, it's not a happy word. It's more of a neutral one. Unlike rape, which is a terrible one. And you don't have to experience it to know that's a truly horrendous thing for a person to go through. When you hear the word 'rape' or 'raped' you know how horrifying, devastating and life-destroying it can be.

 

But the word disappointment, not only is it a neutral word, most people will act indifferent to it. The thing about disappointment is that you don't understand how terrible it is until you experience it repeatedly. Because when you're friends, family, professors, peers are almost always disappointed in you, it makes everything just so shit. Because all you are is a failure, you're not good enough, and eventually you become disappointed in yourself, you get sick of yourself, and you start to believe that you will never ever be good enough. It's a degrading feeling, and Draco hates it more than anything.

 

The word disappointment, he thinks, is like a wolf dressed up in sheep's clothing.

 

_I bet no one's noticed my absence, no one's calling for help so I better take this opportunity before I miss it._

 

And he is, disappointed in himself that is. He's so tired of not being good enough. He's tired of hating how he looks, hating himself. He can barely even look in a mirror any more, because fucking hell he's just so horrible to look at. That must be how everyone else sees him. Unfortunately it doesn't matter how many mirrors he avoids, the bruises marring his wrists will always be there. He hates looking at them, but he can't stop staring. As if he's punishing himself. Because he hates them, he fucking detests them. A stupid, painful reminder of how he was raped. Of how fucking weak he was, still is. About how he feels used, dirty, and he is still fucking mortified. And his parents seeing him like that? Fuck he was so weak.

 

He can barely even think about it. Doesn't want to admit out loud that Draco Malfoy was such a huge fuck up that he had to get fucking _raped_ to be put back in his place. And those stupid bruises on his wrists scream that at him every time he so much as glances at them. But that's not the only thing they remind him of. They remind of the time when Potter was the only one that could mark him. It reminds him that he's never going to get that back. That he doesn't deserve to get him back because he let another man mark him, rape or not.

 

He's also tired of trying so hard to hold on when the ledge is just getting more slippery. He's tired of trying to hold on when it feels as if life is stamping on his fingers, yelling at him to let go. It's about time he did. He's so fucking tired of being tired. He's tried right? He has tried his damn fucking hardest to not end up here, to not give in on himself, he tried his best and that's all that matters. But it's time to stop trying.

 

_Believe me when I tell you that I've been persistent, but I'm more scarred, more scarred than my wrist is_

 

He takes another look over the edge, and it feels like there's unseen force, calling to him, whispering to him that it's okay to jump, that all that pain will go away. He's not sure why he waited so long to do this. What was the point of holding on as long as he did if he knew that he it was only a matter of time before he fell? Because, Draco answers himself, he had hoped that maybe one day he would wake up and everything would suddenly be okay. But every morning has been worst than the last, every day he had been slipping deeper and deeper and then he had been forced into the bitter realisation that no, things weren't going to get better. Things are never going to get better.

 

It's hard to believe that it not too long ago he was happier than he had ever been in his life. He and Potter were in love, and his friends were also starting to accept him too. His parents had been happy knowing that their son was happy, and everything had been perfect. But here he is, moments away from killing himself. From dying. Mere moments away from leaving this world without looking back. The thought fills him with a fucked up sense of peace and contentment.

 

He marvels at how naïve he had been. How he didn't see this coming was beyond him. Well, he can't really blame himself for not foreseeing being raped, but he should have known that something was going to go wrong, that he and Potter couldn't have possibly lasted. But he didn't. He had been too wrapped up in being happy and in love to notice that something truly dark was on the horizon.

 

He can't stop thinking about that Doctor Who thing. Olivia had told him about it. He hadn't really been listening, only getting the gist of things, but one thing had stuck with him. 'He'll rise higher than ever before and then fall so much further.' Draco can't help but think that he is falling further than before. He also can't help but think that it isn't long before he hits the ground.

 

_I've been trying too long with too dull of a knife, but tonight I made sure that I sharpened it twice, I've never worn a suit before in my life but when you go to meet god you wanna look nice._

 

Draco doubts that they'll understand. Hell, he barely understands this himself. All he knows is that he hates feeling like this. Hates not being good enough, hates how he looks, he hates Potter. He hates how he loves Potter. He hates what happened, and he hates thinking about it, and he hates feeling dirty and used, and he hates feeling like this all the fucking time non-stop. He wants this to stop. He just wants everything to fucking stop.

 

He feels like screaming. He feels like crying. He feels like laughing. He doesn't want to live any more. It's just as simple as that.

 

He scoots ever so closer to the edge, and glances down again. Nope, still no regrets. Still no sudden desperation to live. He wonders if he'll survive. For the first time since coming out here, he feels a niggling of worry at the back of his mind. There's no way he can survive this. Even if someone is looking out the windows, they won't get down in time to help him. Hell someone can be right there and they still couldn't help him. Magic doesn't heal him any more. He'll be dead before they realise that. They're could be wards and shit to alert the staff if someone is on the roof. No, he dismisses the thought as soon as it crosses his mind. He's been up here for a good while now. If someone is coming they'd be here. No one is coming. And yeah, they're could be something that alerts that staff is someone has jumped, but that solely relies on magic to save that person. Again, wouldn't work on him. So there's no way he can survive this. Well. He guesses he just has to find out then.

 

_So if I survive, then I'll see you tomorrow, yeah, I'll see you tomorrow._

 

He shuffles forward, nearly over the edge. He braces himself to jump. Just a little bit further and that's it. Death. All this pain, gone. All those fucking memories, gone. All the sleepless nights, gone. All the fucking nightmares, gone. All the concerned glances from people in his life he doesn't deserve, which makes him feel so guilty, gone. All the love and affection he still has for Potter even though he has no right to feel that way, gone. All those unwanted feelings, gone. Everything, gone, just gone, gone, gong.

 

He puts his hands on either side of him. He'll count from five. Why not? He's held on so long what's another five seconds?  **5**. He wonders what will happen right after. Will a bunch of people gather around his body like people would in crappy horror films? Or would it only be the teachers, staring solemnly at Draco Malfoy, the pathetic Death Eater's son's body? **4**. How would they tell his parents? Would they bring them into the school or will it be not so friendly floo call. He's pretty sure that they'll just call Pansy and Potter into some office, and tell them. It'll be okay. They'll learn to hate him. They will. **3**. The rest of the school will find out pretty quick after that. They'll call him weak, pathetic, attention seeking, stupid, selfish. He doesn't care. He'll be dead. They can say what they want, they can't hurt him any more. Can't hurt him any more than he hurts himself. **2**. He wonders if they'll do a funeral type think like they did for Cedric. No, they won't. Because Cedric Diggory was loved by all. Missed by all. Draco is certainly not loved by all. More like hated. The exact opposite. He supposes it doesn't matter. He'll finally be dead. **1**. This is it, he thinks. The end. His journey, his story is over now. He finds that he's relieved.

 

He looks up at the stars again. One last time.

 

“I'll see the stars again soon.” He whispers, his words blown away by the wind. Forgotten. Unheard. Much like he will be.

 

He takes a deep breath, and pushes off of the tiny bit he is still sitting on. He is falling. He is falling. He is still falling. And then, he is falling no more and the world goes black.

 

_I wish that I could fly, way up in the sky, oh I might just try. Oh I might just try._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So should I be fearing for my life now or what? Again, please don't hate me. So he jumped then. bet you weren't expecting that. and yes, don't worry there's is going to be another chapter.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked it, they literally make my day.
> 
> Till next week my darlings!
> 
> •I'm sorry for my absence. I've been on holiday and there's other reasons as to why I haven't updated yet. I haven't given up don't worry. I'll update but I don't know when. If you would like to talk to me for find out more come check me out on tumblr, my name is dark Meadows•


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